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Other books by 
GRACE CLARKE NEWTON 

A BOOK OF RHYMES. 



THE HUNTING ALPHABET. 
Illustrated in color. l/iii/iepress'] 

A SMALL GIRL'S STORIES. 

[ In preparation ] 



POEMS IN PASSING. 

A Second Gleaning. \_Tn preparation'] 





t 


POEMS IN PASSING 


BY 


GRACE CLARKE NEWTON 


A 


V 


E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY 


PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK CITY 


I9I6 








Copyright, I9I6, by 
E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY 



I'* 

m 26 1916 



OC1,A427049 



# 
In bringing together here in print these poems 

of Grace Clarke cA(ewton it seems impossible not 

to say something of the personality for which they 

serve as a partial and almost casual expression, 

JJt ten years of age she had written four good- 
sized copy-books of original stories in a childish 
hand^ cramped and labored^ but with infinite 
pains, /It thirteen years her first collection of 
poetry was written^ and many of the verses were 
printed in the periodicals of this and other cities 
at that time, cJ\ot until years afterwards were 
they discovered to have been written by a mere 
child, so mature and full of style were they. 

Some of the poems in this volume had been 
approved and corrected by the Jluthor for pub- 
lication^ others were still unfinished', but many 
have been brought to light from obscure places, 
such as private letters, fly-leaves of books, the 
backs of pictures, old diaries, and other remote 
sources which might easily have eluded discovery. 
Moreover, the poems here given comprise less 
than half the material at hand^ but much of the 
rest is of a nature so intimately personal that it 
must remain locked forever in the hearts of those 
to whom it was written. 



# 
LIST OF POEMS 

POEMS IN PASSING 



PAGE 



The Infinite Message 3 

Juana's Song 4 

The Elect of Love 5 

Maternity 6 

The Shepherd 7 

Wisdom 8 

The Lighting of Stars 9 

Love Among the Roses II 

An April Song 12 

Through the Mist 13 

The Little Brook 14 

Aladdin 15 

In a New England Garden 16 

The Moon-Beam and the Rose 18 

The Isle of Gardens 19 

As by Fire 21 

A Rose of Yester-eve 22 

In the Mission Garden 23 

As One Made Blind 24 

Upon Her Balcony 25 

The Sailor Doll and the Big Toy Ship 26 

Ungrateful Love 28 

Pour le Jour de Naissance dc Mon Frcre 29 

The King's Son 30 

Love the Tyrant 32 

ix 



LIST OF POEMS 

PAGE 

Who Burns the Britigc 33 

The Rose Witch 34 

The Secret of Love 36 

A Toast 37 

The Old Piano 38 

Lost 40 

The Longest Day of the Year 41 

Where the Lilies Blow 42 

The Tribute 43 

Dost Thou Love Me ? . 46 

The Dread White Mist 47 

An Afterglow 48 

The Princess 49 

Three Songs for the Samisen 

I This Hour is Thine 50 

II The Bridegroom 50 

III The Lonely Prince 51 

The Tryst 52 

The Bold Lover 53 

Exile 54 

When Roseate Gleams 55 

The Way to Do It 56 

In a Garden 58 

The Day's Delight 59 

Spring in Winter 60 

In Profile 61 

The Dragon-slayer 62 

Lo ! In this Garden 63 

Milestones 64 

Grey Mist Wreaths 66 

X 



LIST OF POEMS 

PAGE 

A Venetian Rose 67 

To My Valentine 68 

To a Friend 70 

The Silver Wind 71 

An Ingle Song 72 

The Lover's Prayer 73 

From a Dune 74 

Suggestion 75 

The Feasting of Fi 76 

The Masque of Love 11 

One Night in Tangier 

I Serenade in the Spanish Quarter .... 84 

II On the House-top 85 

III Riffian Love Song 86 

IV Song of the Camel-drivers 87 

V From a House-top 88 

VI Azizah 89 

VII Song of the Kasbah 90 

VIII By the Sea-wall 91 

IX The Blind Beggar 92 

X The Thoughts of Zahra 93 

XI Aftermath 94 

OCCASIONAL STANZAS 

WRITTEN IN BOOKS, ON THE REVERSE 

OF PICTURES, ETC. 

A Line to Live By 99 

After the Quarrel 100 

In a Letter lOI 

Influence 102 

xi 



LIST OF POEMS 



PAGE 



On a Small Ivory Buddha 103 

Do Two Who Dream 104 

For a Sun-dial Sculptured by Enid Yandell .... 105 

Alice in Wonderland 106 

William Ernest Henley 107 

I Read a Little Book 108 

On a Picture 109 

In Childhood's Day 1 10 

To Maurice Hewlett Ill 

Each Day is a Song 112 

By the Sea-shore 113 

L'Envoi 114 

IN LIGHTER VEIN 

The Glow-worm and the Butterfly 117 

Lines Written in a Parlor Car 118 

My Pal 120 

A Schevcningen Idyl 121 

Miss Poky is on Her Allowance 124 

My Sampler 125 

Isabel 126 

The Rosebud with a Past 128 

The Song of the Hunter 130 

Comparisons 131 

Pauline 132 

Any Husband to Any Wife 134 

The Guest-book 1 36 

The Onion-vender 138 

Reprisals 141 

Mabel Snow 142 

xii 



LIST OF POEMS 

9 
WHO ARE YOU? 

PAGE 

Foreword 147 

The Cotillion Leader 148 

Parson Owl's Test Questions 149 

The Grateful Elephant 150 

The Aquarium 152 

The Hypnotic Turkey 153 

The Hounded Porcupine 154 

The Giddy Goat 156 

Thoughtful Tutti Frutti 157 

The Life of the Party 158 

The Walking Delegate 159 

The Flippant Fox and the Sanctimonious Coon . . I60 

The Large Frog Tells How He Achieved Notoriety . I6l 

The Puppies' School 162 

The High-flying Spider 1 63 

The Philosophy of the Pasture 165 



(Ex ^ibjris 




^ little ix^zttex titan mg bauks, 

^g little l^ou»e wag be; 
l&ut JwJbat is iteajrex tltatt titcttt batl^ T 

Cite ^txi»e tltat gaiie it me. 



Grace Clarke Newton's Book-plate 

Shewing the entrance of her house 
at Easthampton, L. I. 



POEMS IN PASSING 



THE INFINITE MESSAGE 

LIE still and look upon the sea! 
J Press down the sed^e-^rass, 
spray-empearled, 
And let thy very heart go free 

Into that shining, glimmering world! 

Whether it be at dawn to wake, 

When rose and gold are on the sea; 

Or 'neath the stars to hear waves break, 
Lose not the wonder meant for thee! 

Would'st gain in power to love and cheer? 

Resistless as God's tide would'st be? 
Lie close and listen. Thou shalt hear 

The infinite message of the sea! 



JUANA'S SONG 

DOST thou despair, when for thy comforting 
The white stars burn in Heaven's own 
azure deep? 
When nightingales in yonder garden fling 
Their song full-throated to the rose asleep? 

Why fall thy tears when through the mist is borne 
(Oh ! Summer-scented mist more sweet 
than wine!) 
The laughter of red poppies in the corn? 
— Red-lipped, they laugh at such despair 
as thine! 



THE ELHCT OF LOVE 

LOVE came to me, and lo! Love ^ave to me 
J With shining eyes and ^lowin^ win^s 
outspread 
Largess of frankincense and myrrh and pearls, 

And roses, yea, in garlands white and red. 
But when I found each fair white pearl a tear 
That in Love's name and for Love's sake 
was shed, 
I shuddered at the ^ifts of Love; and, Dear, 
My heart foresaw Love's doom and prayed 
for Death instead. 

And now the last ^reat gift of Love is mine. 

And with it wisdom. Fears and doubt 
have fled. 
This frankincense and myrrh doth Love distill 

Only when hearts for Love's sweet sake 
have bled. 
And only gives he unto us, his own. 

The roses white and — ah ! — the roses red 
When we are worthy. Sacrifice alone 

Can keep the holy blossoms all unwithered. 



MATERNITY 

I HEAR a frail voice calling from the deep 
Of my own bein^ — calling me from sleep. 
Oh, life! Oh, new life, trembling on my breast! 
Oh, child of dreams, by the Unknown caressed! 
In my soul's ecstasy thy soul aglow; 
Strong to bear grief, if sorrow thou must know; 
And from my joys thy chaliced cup to fill. 
Brimmed with the nectar that the Gods distill ! 
For those who are heaven-born, like thee, the grace, 
The strength, the beauty and the marks of race! 
May these good gifts be thine; and — Oh, my son! — 
Enduring power, that thy proud course when run 
Fulfil the breathless promise of these days. 
Lo! this I pray as every woman prays 
Who hears the frail voice calling from the deep. 
Who hears the new life calling her from sleep. 



THE SHEPHERD 

SHEPHERD of the wandering lambs, 
How they need thy care! 
Over barren plain and rock 

Wearily they fare. 
Where the pleasant pastures are, 

There are pitfalls deep. 
Where the tall thorn hedges grow, 
Shepherd, seek thy sheep ! 

Shepherd, bid us seek for those 

Weak with fear and cold. 
Free them, of thy boundless love; 

Lead them to thy fold! 
Shepherd of the wandering lambs. 

Make us say aright 
All that thou would'st say if thou 

Cam'st on earth to-night. 



WISDOM 

TO sit with folded hands and eyes serene 
Through those long days and nights that 
lie between 
The vision of power and that ripe hour 

Which bids the spirit grasp what it has seen. 



THE LIGHTING OF STARS 

BELOVED! What may I hold fast? 
Thine heart? Ah ! no — some power 
above me 
May whisper, **He is not the last 
Nor yet the worthiest to love thee!" 

Though I behold the Rose of Flame 
Here at thy feet — adore it, kneeling — 

It would but be my deeper shame 

Were life not ^reat for such revealing. 

Time leads us down the Shadowed Way 
And ^ives us but a moment fleeting 

When one may li^ht a star — to say, 

'* Here once a human heart was beating." 

The torch 1 dear Love — in Art's great sky 
To light a star — by song or story 

I should not dare — save thou stand by — 
For just a woman's meed of glory! 

So Petrarch thought — so Dante knew. 

And all who carve or paint. Then, dreaming, 

I shall send forth my dream, unto 

The furthest end of all Life's seeming. 

9 



Beloved! Call it by thy name, 
This tiny star I leave a-burning; 

For I have seen the Rose of flame 
— And thine the power, and mine 
the yearning! 



10 



LOVE AMONG THE ROSES 

WHEN the kiss of dawn unsheathes 
Petals of the rose, 
Incense from her heart who breathes 
Her enchantment knows ! 

When the dusky twilight creeps 

O'er the garden close, 
Love amon^ the Roses sleeps. 

— Bid me so repose! 



II 



AN APRIL SONG 

WHEN the tulip buds unclose, 
Sheathed in pearl and tipped with 
rose, 
Thou shalt lift thy face to me 
Underneath the tulip tree. 

When the star-beams glide and gleam 
O'er the garden's April dream, 
Life shall learn what Love may be 
Underneath the tulip tree. 

Budding fair each bough to-night! 
Shine, oh stars ! our fears take flight. 
Thine the spell that set them free 
Underneath the tulip tree. 

Smile as thou art smiling. Sweet! 
So the Spring with footsteps fleet 
Hasteneth, dear Heart, to thee 
Underneath the tulip tree. 



12 



THROUGH THE MIST 



'Duet for baritone and Mezzo 

He sings: ' I 'RUST thou, that Love and Love's 
X delight 
Are in the world, the world, for thee! 
Tho' thou art held in thrall to-night. 
Dear Heart, thou shalt be free. 

She sings: Love shines upon a sea of pain 

And lo! the mists, the mists, arise! 
Look thou on me, and they shall wane 
To blue of Paradise ! 

He sings: Thou, in the world of God's great wind — 
She sings: Close sheltered, sheltered on thy 

breast! 
They sing All we have sought for, we shall find! 
together: — Yea, Life and Love are blest! 



13 



THE LITTLE BROOK 

HE hoped to be a roaring, rushing river 
When first his babbling voice began to 
sound: 
He owned this modest aim without a quiver 

When just a tiny rill on mossy ground. 
But, wandering down the hill, through meadows 
glowing, 
One day he saw afar the shining sea: 
Ah ! then he knew, and felt the joy of knowing, 
From first to last a little brook was he! 



H 



ALADDIN 

SLAVE to Love's Lamp — his lady's gentle 
hands 

Clasped in his own, and that incarnate rose, 
Her mouth, upon his brow, rob memory. 

No legacy of Lesser Love withstands 
The soft touch of Her hands. Like silken bands 

They draw him, ever closer. Ah, who knows 
Why it was not thus always! Youth demands 

Such epic joys and lives such sorry prose. 
The little acrid flames that li^ht and burn 

Within our untamed hearts, the vain desires, 
Vain ^lory of youn^ eyes that ever yearn 

To see perfection — 'tis from these we learn. 
And then at last, when fade the lesser fires. 

To thee, true Lamp that faileth not, we turn. 



15 



IN A NEW ENGLAND GARDEN 

FROM the heart of Summer's bloom 
And its rose-tipped twilight gloom, 
Drifting toward the sea there floats 
An impalpable perfume. 

Just to breathe it deep and slow 
Is that incense lost to know 
Which was offered to great Pan 
In Arcadia, long ago. 

*Tis to see his visage rise 
Clear against the purple skies 
— Pointed ear and horned brow. 
Cruel mouth and smiling eyes. 

Much ^twould shock my hostess prim, 
Whose box-bordered garden dim 
'Neath the crescent August moon 
Sends this incense up to him, 

If she guessed that pagan gleams 
Shone between the moon's white beams. 
Fed upon the scents that rise 
O'er her garden and my dreams; 

16 



That a marble temple fair 
(When I close my eyes it 's there !) 
Waits the worshipping of Pan, 
Who will answer all my prayer! 



17 



THE MOON-BEAM AND THE ROSE 

A WHITE rose raised her stately head 
When all the world with roses bloomed. 
Amid the roses pink and red 
Her velvet petals incense shed 
— A chalice Love-illumed. 

For Love in June had heard her si^h, 

In pallid beauty set apart. 
She trembled when she felt him ni^h ; 
And in a moon-beam from the sky 

He crept into her heart. 

How far above her sisters fair 

She swings her chalice to and fro! 
The white rose, and the moon-beam rare! — 
Were I a moon-beam should I dare 
To enter your heart so? 



18 



THE ISLE OF GARDENS 

WE left the Land of Custom, 
And sailed on Fancy's sea 
Into an Isle of Gardens, 

Known but to you and me. 
Passing the solemn hed^e-rows, 

All garlanded with bloom, 
We drank deep breaths, enraptured, 
Of subtly sweet perfume. 

Lo! what a ni^ht of starlight 

We spent on that fair isle; 
Cradled upon pine-branches, 

Forgetful for a while 
Of the Land that we had fled from. 

The Land of Every Day I 
Oh ! back to those wondrous gardens. 

Would that we knew the way! 



19 



THE LANTERNS 
EASTHAMPTON.L.I. 










/ 



20 



AS BY FIRE 

LO ! doth awakening seem 
i (From some fair dream — ) 
To make of Life a thing more grey 

and hard? 
Nay! when thy heart is torn 
By that sharp thorn 
That Love hath placed his wonder-rose 

to guard, 
Rise thou to heights, and feel 
Through pain's ordeal 
Alone are we found worthy of reward. 



21 



A ROSE OF YESTER-EVE 
I 

SHE who is the Queen of Flowers, 
The crimson-petalled rose, 
Gives the fairest of her dowers 

When her leaves unclose. 
Oh, the nightingale who woos her. 

For a winged brief delight. 
As an hour^s caprice he views her, 
In the starlit night. 

Refrain: 

The rose fades on the bough, Dear Heart, 
As fade the dreams we weave. 

Thou dost not love me now. Dear Heart, 
A rose of yester-eve. 

II 

When the stars pale at day's dawning, 

Flies the bird to join his mate. 
Lo, the anguish of Love's scorning, 

'Tis a rose's fate. 
Shall my life end as a flower's. 

Now that winged joy hath flown ? 
Loved by thee for some glad hours. 

Fading then alone ? 

Refrain: The rose fades, etc. 
22 



IN THE MISSION GARDEN 

(Written in the Mission Garden at Santa Barbara, California) 

HERE lie the brown-frocked brothers scattered, 
Hundreds and thousands of our Indian 
dead! 
Some outlet for their savage strength God found: 
They built our mission, sleep in holy ground. 
Wild simple hearts, by faith and works made pure 

That yonder belfry mi^ht this day endure! 
** How great your debt T' I murmured. — Came reply, 
'* Long cancelled, for in holy ground they lie!" 



23 



AS ONE MADE BLIND 

WHEN Thou, Heart of my Heart, 
dost call to me 
(Albeit with silent lips 
from deeps of pain) 
The garden's rose — a moment's 
all in all to me — 
Swingeth her petalled 
censer in vain. 
The joy of mine 

that made our joy complete 
Fadeth to ashes for thy sorrow, Sweet! 

What though I lie and gaze 
on starlit sea, 
Or walk beneath tall pines! 
Love, where thou art 
In stony city ways 

I fain would be. 
There should I find ease 
for my aching heart! 
Mine eyes, until thou 
painless rest, 
Are blind, though Nature 
show her loveliest. 



24 



UPON HER BALCONY 

I CLIMB the quaint old stairs that wind 
Up to that realm where I would be, 
Where honeysuckle vines are twined 
— Upon her balcony. 

The moon is hi^h — my thoughts inclined 
To rise as hi^h above the sea; 

An inspiration comes to mind 
Upon her balcony. 

And some of it, that lon^ has lain 
Within the heart, the night sets free 

To sing itself, a soft refrain, 
— **Upon Her Balcony.'' 

And as I play — in gladsome vein 
That meets a winding minor key — 

Is born that sweet and haunting strain, 
''Upon Her Balcony"! 



25 



THE SAILOR DOLL AND THE BIG 
TOY SHIP 

T)uet: Reggie and Elsa 

I 

She: T NAMED a little sailor doll for You, 

JL When I was eight or nine! 
He: Was that a sign you loved me true? 
She: I thought it was a sign I 

His curls were yellow and his eyes 
were blue. 
He: T'hey sound a bit like mine! 

She: I thought the sailor doll resembled You, 
When I was eight or nine! 

^* Dimple-Chin, your dolly 
Is a sign of folly! '* 
All the grown-ups told me, **Of sailor 
boys beware!" 
He: Wonder if you kissed him! 

Could n't you resist him? 
Would you be as good to me — if I should 
ever dare? 

II 

He: I named for you. Sweetheart, my big 
toy boat. 
The wonder of the fleet! 
26 



She: Of course the fastest, fairest ship afloat: 

No others dared compete! 
He: When Re^^ie and his **Elsa" (Pray 
you, note 
How well that sounds, my Sweet!) 
Surpassed in glory every other boat 
Within the nursery fleet! 

'^ Curly-Pate — please lend her 
For the 'Cup-Defender'!'' 
All the grown-ups teased me, but I 
proudly said them **Nay." 
She: Was she what you thought her. 

Queen on land and water? 
Are you glad you named your boat and 
I my doll that way? 



27 



UNGRATEFUL LOVE 

LOVE was cold and love was weary, 
J What a rueful face he wore! 
But I ^ave him greeting cheery, 
And I said, ** Rest here, my dearie,** 
Opening wide the door. 

Soft I stroked each ruffled feather, 
Kissed his tear-drops all away: 

Love forgot the stormy weather; 

When we *d been a while together 
He began to play. 

Played me all my dreams unspoken. 
With my heartstrings as his lute. 
— Then he fled; and left as token 
All my dreams and longings broken, 
All the music mute! 



28 



POUR LE JOUR DE NAISSANCE 
DE MON FR6rE 

(An original and modernized Punch and Judy show was written, with 
songs and libretto, and staged, by G. C. N.; and acted at "The Lanterns" 
before an invited audience of friends.) 



DO you remember, Brother mine, 
One birthday when I ^ave a *'show" 
(With Chappell's aid), and wrote the play 
For puppets — never let you know? 

And when the curtain rose that ni^ht 
What joy was mine, to make a hit 

With the three people in the house 
For whose applause I cared one bit! 

**Le Petit Theatre de Renard Rouge" — 
That was the name I called it. Dear ; 

And, all the while, 'twas for your laugh 
We played — the source of all our cheer! 

Ah ! then, as now, you, dearest Tom, 
Will never find the gift too small; 

But in the love I send it with 

I know your heart finds mine — that 's all 



29 



THE KING'S SON 

THE slave who in the chill white dawn 
Met death upon yon gallows-tree 
With a soldier's step and a brave man's scorn 

For the King and the King's decree! 
His mother's shame when he was born, 

(No willing Royal Mistress, she !) 
Cradled in agony, forlorn 

Of all but hate — black hate for me I 

A spirit high was his — a brain 

That teemed with keen creative fire: 
(And hers was so — ere it was slain 

For the King's delight — the King's desire!) 
I heard her sobbing : she would fain 

Lie swathed in rags on her funeral pyre, 
Rather than on my heart have lain 

In her perfumed and jewelled attire! 

This captive with the sun-kissed hair 

{ZJDe waged our wars on northern lands !) 
And the rose-red mouth — was a beauty rare 

Who loathed the King and his commands! 
And so I answered not her prayer! 

The web of Life has poisoned strands; 
And she has taught me her despair! 

I wonder if she understands? 

30 



If still she hates, who taught her son 

To hate so well oefore she died? 
I saw the cursed deed be^un 

Ere she went to Hell; and a kingly pride 
Waxed in the eyes and heart of One 

Who seemed forever at my side. 
No more, now this morn's work is done, 

Shall I be so defied! 

I grew to fear the slender youth 

Who filled my cup and bent the knee. 
It seemed that he must know the truth 1 

A King he looked and a King would be! 
He showed no sign of joy or ruth, 

But only lived in the hope that he 
Should taste his Freedom. Now, forsooth, 

I at the last have set him free! 

There he swings! and here in state 

I sit — quite safe, dear Gods, at last! 
He was my curse : it was his Fate 

That the King should smite as a mighty blast I 
Quite safe, dear Gods, at last ! — but wait, 

The pale woman who just passed! 

/ind who is that comes toward me fast? 
My Son! Oh Gods! Too late! too late! 



31 



LOVE THE TYRANT 
Madrigal 

I 

10VE the tyrant works his will, 
J Hath his way, Dear Heart, in me. 
Dost thou fear his service still, 
Seeing how all joyously 
At his throne men bend the knee. 
Live and laugh and know no ill? 
Love the tyrant works his will, 

Hath his way, Dear Heart, in me! 

II 

Thou alone art sad and chill. 

Dreading Love's captivity. 
Bid the tyrant work his will 

In thy sad heart, and thou shalt be 

Free as only gods are free. 
Live and laugh and know no ill! 
Love the tyrant works his will. 

Hath his way. Dear Heart, in me! 



32 



WHO BURNS THE BRIDGE 

(Lines on a Roman bridge now in use and partly restored by the 
Moors in Morocco, on the way to Tctuan. Written for the book-plate 
of R. N., Jr.) 



WHO burns the bridge whereon he crossed 
To kneel at Wisdom's altar, 
Shall reach her shrine, tho' tempest-tossed. 
• — Who burns it not may falter. 



33 



THE ROSE WITCH 

THE fire burns brightly; 
*Tis leaping lightly, 
This flame so rare! 
Within Youth's glances 
It gleams and dances, 

Where? Love— Where? 
Oh ! give it greeting, 
For it is fleeting 
As it is fair! 

Red roses wreathing 
Their beauty, breathing 

On lip and brow! 
To taste their sweetness 
In its completeness. 

How ? Love — How ? 
Between our kisses 
Youth's guerdon misses 

No treasure now. 

But days are nearing 
We should be fearing: 

When roses lie 
All pale and broken 

34 



— Of Li^e a token. 

Why} Love— Why} 
The fires of yearning 
Alone are burning 

When roses die! 



35 



THE SECRET OF LOVE 

LIVED one who, blinded for a day, 
J Dreamed that an idol made of clay- 
Was Love. — Take heed! 
For when her Da^on prostrate lay 
Before his altar, her dismay 
Was great indeed! 

Beware, who search for Cupid's shrine. 
This tragic lot! His secret sign 

Is known to few. 
Search not for Love 'neath palm or pine. 
— If you are his, the God divine 

Is seeking you! 



36 



A TOAST 

{/Apropos of Nothing) 

TO those in Arcady who heard 
The Shepherd's warning note, 
Monotonous, insistent, on 

The winds of Twilight float — 
Who pale beneath the paint and patch, 

The silks and laces fine, 
Knowing their Golden Age must end 
— I pledge this cup of mine! 



37 



THE OLD PIANO 

I 

A CHRISTMAS EVE— You '11 please contrive 
To think of drawing-rooms we know, 
Where furnishings of '65 

Do battle with the **Art Nouveau." 
How easy to depict the scene, 

— The chintz with buds and roses gay, 
Which covers over red moreen. 
And two pianos — strange to say! 

II 

The first, an old and quavering thing, 

Square-cased, whose yellowed keys, once white. 
Evoke strange sounds, at which we 'd fling 

Our gibes, save for the past delight: 
The other, come to take its place 

This Christmas, is a ^* Baby-Grand." 
See how they stand there, face to face. 

Where only one next night will stand. 

Ill 

Oh ! marvel not at creak or groan 

From him who quite unstrung may be. 

Before the young usurper's tone 
Has sweetened to maturity. 

38 



Ah yes! the coming Christma.s morn 
Shall see you carted from our si^ht. 

Again I '11 press your pedals worn, 
Caress your jangling keys to-night. 

IV 

Poor cracked old voice, your protest fling 

At Time for such a sorry fate. 
''The King is dead, long live the King!" 

At least you lie to-night in state; 
And your successor shall intone 

A requiem when you breathe your last, 
For though the future is his own. 

Shall we forget your honored past? 



39 



u 



LOST 

She — mischievously: 

OST ! a friend ! a comrade ^ay, 
Never slow, or over-bold 
Till he asked the question old 
That he asked of me to-day! 

He — masterfully : 

Sweet, were it not better you should say 
Lost! a slave who found me cold 
Till he asked the question old 

That he asked of me to-day? 

She — capitulating: 

If a large reward 's the way 
To return my loss untold, 
I will make the promise old 

To love, to honor and obey. 



40 



THE LONGEST DAY OF THE YEAR 

JUNE trailed her garlands by the sea, 
Their petals flecked the brine 
When first your hand met mine: 
And now, whatever the seasons be, 
The thought of you, the sight of you. 
Wakes June within my heart anew. 



41 



WHERE THE LILIES BLOW 

(Fragment of an unfinished poem written in a beautiful Japanese garden) 

SEE, yon amber-tinted priest attends 
Gravely while a musmee, scarlet lips 
Trembling, all her little sins defends "^ 

Through her finger-tips. 
So she watches for the smile benign 

Which, tho' all the world denies, compelled 
Ever from the heart of Love divine. 
Never yet withheld. 

Come, my musmee, (so to me you seem !) 

While the lilies wave their branches white, 
Share the healing sweetness of the dream; 

And bid Love to-night 
Gather you so gently — tired from play — 

To his heart; and, when the lilies blow. 
Drive your childish follies far away! 

— Shall it not be so? 



42 



# 
THE TRIBUTE 

(Written one night in Havana, in March, 1915/ while watching from the 
street the wealth and fashion of the city entering the theatre for the first 
performance of Pavlowa. Printed in "La Lucha " of March 15, and 
afterwards in "The Sun," New York. ) 



T"^ I ME, now; the place, Havana, 
* The Plaza jewelled with li^ht; 
And in El Teatro Payret 

A ^reat, a gala night. 
The Queen of Russian dancers, 

The swan of all the world. 
Sees our beau monde at brightest, 
Bediamonded, empearled. 

The dark-eyed, lovely ladies, 

Their caballeros grave. 
Alight from gleaming motors, 

Ascend the shining wave, 
Into El Teatro Payret; 

While on the street there stands 
A silent, slender flower-girl 

With roses in her hands. 

Quite silently and shyly 

She offers them for sale. 
And as the great throngs enter 

Her tiny face grows pale: 

43 



The eyes of all pass by her; 

Their jewels and flowers are rare. 
They have no time to linger, 

But mount the shining stair. 

Now all the street is silent, 

And worshippers of ^race 
Incarnate in The Dancer 

Are fathered in their place. 
While in a doorway hidden 

Beside the theatre ^ates, 
The rose-^irl with her roses 

For thrones outpouring waits. 

Her head sinks low: she rests it 

Upon the tray of flowers, 
And sleeps serenely, waiting 

There through those weary hours; 
Nor wakes when, loud acclaiming 

The wonders they have seen, 
The great throng passes outward — 

'"Pavlowa!'' ''Goddess!'' ''Queen!'' 

It is long after midnight. 

When through the little door 

Comes one who, stooping swiftly, 
Sees what none saw before: 

Smiles, places in the basket 
A gold piece, big and bright: 

44 



Wakens the sleeper gently 
And ^oes into the ni^ht. 

She knows — as Queens all know it 

Who rei^n by power of race^ 
By dancing or enchanting — 

What Beauty means, and Grace! 
That just to bring a flower 

Into the world grown old 
Deserves its grateful tribute 

Of Love, and Praise, and Gold! 



45 



DOST THOU LOVE ME? 



DOST thou love me, 
Rose, of thy perfume 
withholding. 
Thy pale petals unfolding, 

All too distant above me 
(Dear as thou art) 
For my nearer possessing? 
Lifers sharpest anguish, a blessing. 
Thou couldst bestow with thy heart: 
And it would be. 
If thou love me. 
Crowning my life — tho' with thorns! 

II 

Dost thou love me, 
Rose, in the west wind a-quiver? 
Lend thy ^race, and deliver 
One from bondage — Oh, prove me! 

Shall it be so — 
Shall I take thee and wear thee? 
Tenderly, rev'rently bear thee, 

Chalice of wonder and woe? 

Bid me be free 

If thou love me! 
Crown thou my life with thine own! 

46 



THE DREAD WHITE MIST 



T 



f 

HE dread white mist creeps in from sea 

Wearing a velvet pall, empearled 
With those great jewels of the world 
The bitter tears of agony. 



47 



AN AFTERGLOW 

TUST thinking about Christmas 
Brings the thrill of it to-night. 
We Ve tooting our tin horns again 

Round the holly berries bright, 
And woolly lambs that baa when hugged 

As if they were alive 
(Such as I found beside my crib 

When I was four or five), 
With candy creams of red and white. 

And a top that plays a tune. 
And oh ! the joy of knowing that 

St. Nick beneath the moon 
Is driving his team of reindeer 

So that one small girl like me 
May find such heaps of presents 

Upon her Christmas tree! 



48 



THE PRINCESS 

THE princess wears a rose-red silken sleeve 
That reaches almost to her finger-tips. 
To-day I bent and touched those with my lips, 
And, seeing the sweet lady did not grieve, 
I slipped the jealous fabric from her wrist. 
Which slender lily then I gently kissed. 

Ah, you who will to any false coquette 
Pay compliments, extravagant and vain 
As is the dame herself, will never gain 

Such happiness as lingers with me yet. 
For though she is a star above my head, 
**A royal seal," the princess whispered. 



49 



THREE SONGS FOR THE SAMISEN 



THIS HOUR IS THINE 

THIS hour is thine: above all hours, 
All joys, holy, serene, remote: 
Remembered as the chaliced flowers 
Upon a lotus pool afloat. 

This hour is thine and mine. Ah ! see 
The moon on Fuji pale and wane. 

And know this one hour shared by thee 
Requites eternities of pain 1 

ii 

THE BRIDEGROOM 

WHO on his honored errand rides 
To where O'tani fair 
Beneath her father's roof-tree bides, 
Rich ^ifts to her must bear. 

[Oh ! little dear one, far away — 
What ^ave I you, made dumb 
By your despair, that night in May 
Beneath the flowering plum? 
50 



One blossom from the bou^h bent low 
That hid our tnyst from view! 

Ah 1 when in Spring all blossoms blow, 
Their fragrance is of you.] 

Though he who weds O'tani brings 

Rich silks and ivory, 
In his cold heart a Geisha sings, 

'* What gave you, Love, to me?" 



in 
THE LONELY PRINCE 

IN the palace gardens nod and gleam 
Lily branches, petalled rose and white; 
Golden-rayed the starlight of our dream; 
Fragrant is thy sighing, oh. Delight! 

In the palace gardens, see, are lit 

Lanterns nobly wrought in bronze and stone. 
All about them winged night-moths flit 

— So my thoughts return to thee, my own ! 



51 



THE TRYST 

(TO MY VALENTINE— R. N,, Jr.) 

WHEN the Sun dips down 
To the world's bright rim, 
Listen, Eyes of Brown, 
Summer 's there for him! 

And it 's there for You 
When your eyeUds close. 

— Skies of turquoise blue 
And the budding rose. 

On the other side 

Of just one small world 

Will you choose to ride. 
If the sails are furled? 

There is many a way 

Out of snow and mire. 
Close your eyes and say, 

^^To My Heart's Desire!" 

Canter far and free^ 

Gallop fast and fleet* 
^ch(eath the dreamland tree 
ZVe shall meetf my Sweet! 



52 



THE BOLD LOVER 

YON pallid little stars look down at us; 
The incense-breathing ni^ht doth frown at us 
Attuned were we 
A moment past to all her loveliness. 
That one swift touch of lips, Love's first caress, 

Should an^er thee! 
A poor, strange way to prove my love, dost say? 
Thou tellest me naught new, — a better way 
I, too, divine. 

Nature herself is leagued with me — no less! 
I crave her pardon. Sweetheart, nor confess 

To fault of mine. 
Lo! When I take thee in my arms, like this, 
And press upon thy lips another kiss, 

Thou shalt aver 
The fault was thine, that, being in thy power 
Such joy to give and take, for one short hour 

Thou didst demur! 



53 



EXILE 

THERE is one penalty for sin, 
One bitter fate I dare not face: 
That I should ever enter in 
The Land of Commonplace. 

Yea, any other way I choose! 

Better to suffer all Life's woes 
Rather than that bright Eden lose 

Where blooms Love's perfect rose! 

Better to die than dream away 

The youth that has been given me! 

To love, to suffer — so to pay 
The price of being free! 



54 



WHEN ROSEATE GLEAMS 

WHEN roseate fleams of dawning ^ig^t 
Upon thine eyelids fall, 
Awake! rejoicing, Heart o' Mine! 

As one whom Love doth call. 
Thus my Love-Messages are sent: 
Watch, thou shalt have them all! 



55 



THE WAY TO DO IT 

THE tiny tots about one^s chair 
Who come at bedtime, sit and stare: 
You must be well equipped with wit 
To make them smile a little bit. 
At feasts, responding to a toast, 
I 'm quoted ready with a host 
Of anecdotes and merry jokes. 
Yet can't amuse these little folks. 
I 've tried with Irish dialect 
Their mirth to stir: note the effect — 
The solemn babies rise to go; 
They have no tact, and vote me *'slow.'' 
Their interest I must obtain ; 
And so I sit and rack my brain, 
Laughing uproariously the while. 
Hoping to win a baby smile. 
I have it! ** Children, once-a-time. 
Where parrots screech and monkeys climb, 
I saw a lion and a bear! " 
Lo! What happens — wonder rare — 
Each child is bubbling o'er with glee! 
What is the witchery? They see 
56 



The wonders of the Ark unfold, 

And though my story 's baldly told, 

I am the hero of the hour. 

I thoroughly enjoy my power. 

The golden heads a-circle shine 

About my knee: success is mine! 

I 've roused their interest at last, 

And always I can hold it fast. 

Repeating, ** Children, once-a-time," 

Then add the beasts of every clime. 

But oh ! you ^rown-up baby dear. 

Where is the charm to draw you near? 

I 've said, ** I love you,'' many a time. 

Perhaps the moral of this rhyme 

— **I 'm bound to have my own, some way" — 

Will win even your hard heart, some day! 



57 



IN A GARDEN 

WHEN all about you breathes and blows 
The incense of the mignonette; 
When you and I, dear heart, are met 
'Neath stars within a garden close. 

Refrain: 
The little God of Love (Who knows 
What hour is his — is his and mine!) 
Will teach me straightway to divine 
The way to win you, pretty rose I 
How to hold you, how to fold you 
To my heart, till all is told you ! 
How to win my gentle rose ! 

When June, her wreath of leaves agleam 
With silver from the crescent moon, 
Bids every wind to sigh in tune 

The hour will come of which I dream. 

Refrain: 
The little God of Love (Who knows 

What joy the stars — the stars forecast !) 
Shall whisper, ** Lo, the dreams are past!'* 
And then to win you, pretty rose ! 
Then to hold you, then to fold you 
To my heart, till all is told you! 
Then to win my gentle rose! 

58 



THE DAY'S DELIGHT 

FROM out the depths of changeful sky 
The stars are fading — day is near: 
Along our paths the roses lie, 

And dawn reveals their splendor, Dear. 

And shall we grieve, dear Heart, — oh! why. 
At passing of this fairest night? 

We will not sigh a single sigh, 

But smile, and greet the day's delight. 



59 



SPRING IN WINTER 

THE cobbler flings aside his last, 
The prodigal forgets his past, 
On such a Day. 
Though honest toil is worthy praise, 
This is the time a Wise Man plays. 
Be wise! I say. 

Forget the things that cause you care, 
Sunshine and Spring are everywhere. 

My thoughts have fled 
Across the city, Dear, to you. 
Indeed, the sky is very blue. ' 

Look overhead! 



60 



IN PROFILE 

OH ! lovely little face that looks 
Intently into empty spaces, 
And peoples them from wonder books 
With fays and o^res, nymphs and graces! 

Fond glance all lambently aglow 
With fantasies too dear for telling! 

— Why, here I know, who see you so. 
Hot tears within mine own eyes welling. 



61 



THE DRAGON-SLAYER 

DO you remember, little friend, 
Our ^^wonder-story'' years? 
When gallant toy-swords quick defend 

A lady from her fears ! — 
When — tho' our frocks to dimpled knees 

Scarce reach — ^reat joy we feel 
At thought that yonder budding trees 
Hide '' Dragons '' for our ** steel"? 

Oh! then, as now, when rosy ^low 

Crowns each ^reen twi^, how sweet 
To lie where apple blossoms snow, 

— To linger at your feet! 
Yet graver dangers threaten here 

Than ** Dragons"; and my part 
To-day, as then, to ^uard you, Dear — 

A refuge in my heart! 

Ah! ugly dragon '^Youth-Forgot'' — 

('Tis strange that men should yield 
So swiftly to him — is it not?) 

Dear Heart, whom Love may shield 
From ** Bitterness " and ** Cease-to-Care," 

** Lost-Hope" and '' Dreams-that-Fade " 
— Dear little friend, they 're everywhere, 

But we are not afraid! 

62 



LO! IN THIS GARDEN 

10 ! in this garden where, by Heaven's ^race, 
-^ Ni^ht blooms for us, a myriad-petalled star, 
World-weary, we have found a resting-place. 

The fountains murmuringly fall, and gleam 

In pools of silver where pale lilies are: 
Sleep thou, my heart, and haply thou shalt dream! 

Here, garlanded with roses red and white. 
Doth Life reveal — the ivory gate ajar — 
One perfect jewel, this hour of our delight! 



63 



MILESTONES 

THE milestones in a woman's life 
How bright they shine! 
Dear, you have told me some of yours, 
And here are some of mine. 

The first, that day of perfect bliss, 

When from the shelf 
Your dimpled fingers took the book 

All by yourself. 
And read, without a word of help 

(Reward or kiss). 
Of Alice in the Wonderland. 

— A milestone this! 

The next when, slender ankles hid 

By lengthened skirts, 
The episode received from man 

Its great deserts; 
And seeing you descend the stair, 

A child no more. 
Some friend of Father's said, **To see 

Is to adore!" 

Then, when the dancing and the fun 

As shared by Him 
Took on its true perspective, and 

The Stars grew dim, 

64 



And he bent down and whispered, ** Dear, 

You '11 wait for me!" 
So to the kingdom came the Queen 

You were to be! 

A milestone, when the little house 

Love built for you 
Was furnished, and the lamp 

Was lit for two; 
And, one white-lilac scented night. 

Your travelling o'er, 
Upon the whole wide outside world 

You locked the door! 

Again, beside the nursery fire. 

In its red glow. 
You sit, and that warm bundle sweet 

Rock to and fro. 
And ever on the sleeping eyes 

The mother-kiss 
Falls softly from your hungry lips. 

— A milestone this! 



65 



GREY MIST WREATHS 

GREY mist wreaths, over the pine trees 
Clear deepening ^^'^Yi the lake, 
— And the wind to our hearts that murmurs 
**Be brave, for Love's dear sake!'' 

Love that was born in sunshine. 
That waxed so fair with the rose, 

And yet that in winter woodlands 
Fairer and fairer ^lows. 

Ah! the hours we have been together! 

(Shall we always be held apart?) 
Fill the breathless forest silence 

With the Spring that was in your heart. 

So the wind sings thro' the pine trees 
And the mist wreaths float from afar: 

I have waited so long on the path. Dear! 
— We should meet beneath one star! 



66 



A VENETIAN ROSE 

HAST thou, Lui^i, forgot the poor flower 
Worn on thy breast, when pale stars 
sailed the sky? 
Gently thou pledged her for Love's golden hour, 
Life, life eternal — and now she must die. 

Heart o' me, bruised for a cause past confessing, 
Would that to-night the swift-flowing lagoon 

Over my sorrows might close and caressing 

Murmur, **She sleepeth — the Rose of One June/' 

Lo! as the rose strews her leaves and discloses 
Her golden heart, for a moment complete, 

I whom thou calledst **The Queen of the Roses," 
Sharing her ecstasy, find Death so sweet. 



67 



TO MY VALENTINE— R. N., Jr. 

^ LOVELY garden blooms and blows 
xx Far from the land of Every ^ay. 
This is a song for One who chose 
To take me there with him to-day* 

A chubby-legged cheery elf: 

He went the path so steadily, 
And at the Toll-Gate paid the Pelf 

And entered just ahead of me. 

The roses turned and laughed for joy, 
The tulips raised their rosy heads 

— They loved to see the Little Boy. 
The purple pansies from their beds 

Looked shyly up and said, ^'Take us!" 
The jonquils crowded round his feet; 

The freesia made no kind of fuss 

Because he plucked and found them sweet. 

He gathered all his arms could hold, 
Plucked branches from the lilac trees, 

And gave them all to One he told 
Was sweeter, dearer far than these ! 
68 



The garden is not yours or mine: 
They say it lies a world away* 

^ut yoUf who are my Valentine^ 

Have brought me there with you to-day. 



69 



TO A FRIEND 

THE pan^ is sore to those, dear Friend, 
Your path of pain who know; 
Who may not on your ways attend. 
Who know not where they wind or end. 
Nor why it must be so! 

When, crowned with a^ony, I yearned 

For Peace — and all in vain. 
You came to ease the pain that burned 
Within my heart. To you I turned, 

And lo ! surcease of pain ! 

I lon^ to heal you by this power. 

The blessings you did sow 
About my cross, where one dark hour 
I knew despair, a wondrous shower 

Of fragrant roses ^row. 

Oh ! far across the Wilderness 

My loving thoughts will speed 
To you, whatever your distress; 
And be their ^ift to heal and bless 

As ^reat as is your need! 



70 



THE SILVER WIND 

THE silver wind insistent blows: 
Yea, like a sword he searcheth free 
Here in thy very garden close 
Betwixt the rose-leaf and the rose; 
He searcheth, Love, for thee. 

Through silver flames that thickly stud 

Heaven's blue dark he calls to me, 
And seeks that sweet-scented lily-bud, 
Thy heart — yea, in mine own heart's blood 
He searcheth. Love, for thee. 



71 



AN INGLE SONG 

OH ! wondrous space of starry ni^ht, 
Of rose unfolding dawn and day! 
When parted, Dearest, lay our way, 
When June was robbed of her delight 

And all of Summer's loveliness. 
That garland fair of sound and sight! 

Without you, dear, no power to bless 
Had even Summer's loveliness! 

Oh ! snow-flakes drifting down the hill 
Upon our eaves so cold and bare! 
(The fire-light gleams upon your hair — 

Who said December nights were chill?) 
Amidst all Winter's loneliness 

We are unmindful of it still. 

Draw near me, love; your power confess 
To drive away all loneliness! 



72 



THE LOVER'S PRAYER 

WHEN Love is first away, 
Half blind with tears, we yearn 
Adown the twilight ^rey 
For his return. 

When Love has passed for aye 
(Oh, peace beneath the vine!) 

We smile and, si^hin^, say, 
** Love once was mine." 

Lo! for such peace I pray, 
The balm of aching hearts 

That memories convey 
When Hope departs. 



73 



FROM A DUNE 
Nocturne 

THE lon^ low line against the sky, 
The yellow ^rey of sands that lie 
Half hid in sed^e, the throbbing blue 
Of Summer seas, and You and I 
Beside them — just we two! 

Your hand on mine, my heart for you 
To read — a book forever new ! 

Oh ! Lady of the Restful Dune, 
Our little world is shut from view 

— Now, Pan, thy pipes attune! 

Beneath the shimmering, waning moon. 
While baby stars in silver shoon 

Dance mad for joy — ah ! who shall say 
The Gods no longer grant a boon 

To mortals when they pray! 



74 



SUGGESTION 

ONE rose holds in her petalled heart 
The fragrance of all roses. 
My hand on thine before we part 
My very soul discloses. 

One shaft of ^old reveals the moon 
Through pine boughs intertwining. 

One broken word — our thoughts attune 
That else were past divining 1 

Let it be so forever, Sweet ! 

Seek I, nor thou, no nearer 
To pierce Love's mystery. Complete, 

We should not find it dearer. 



/ 



75 



THE FEASTING OF FI 

WITH eyes whose shining deeps alight 
Are pools where golden star-gleams quiver, 
And rose-red lips whose curves invite 

Man's heart to break — and yet forgive her! 
Strong, slender, young, the Princess Fi ! 
— And oh ! the world she oped to me! 

It was a rapture when she said 

(With looks made up of love and laughter), 
*' I hunger,'' or *M must be fed." 

You knew what crowning joy came after. 
If you were hers enough to see 
What *' feasting" means for such as she. 

The garnered fruit, the spice and wine 

Of great men's thought, great women's yearning, 

— This aws the food I found divine 

To share with her: my faint discerning 

Growing beneath her touch to be 

Fit comrade for the Princess Fi. 

Sweet Princess, lol the Grail of Fire, 
The chaliced rose, for you is gleaming! 

And we, who share the mind's desire 

And follow you, shall wake from dreaming. 

And in some far, faint dawn shall see 

What you have sought and found, my Fi! 

76 



THE MASQUE OF LOVE 

# 

/I 'Pantomime with dancing and Song Solos 

(This Masque was written in June, I9I5. to be set and rehearsed by 
the Author. She designed and decorated the stage for it in the ballroom 
of the Hunt Club at Southampton, L. I. The Masque was to have been 
the prelude to the opening dance of the season. Unfortunately, only 
fragments of the manuscript have been found.) 



CAST 

Six Follies Mystery 

Moonshine An Unseen Power 

SCENE 

y? formal garden — a hedge high at the sides and 
low at the back of the stage^ where on a pedestal 
is seen a marble statue of Love. 

Enter from the wings^ one at a time^ three 
pierrots and three pierrettes in white and black. 
They are masked — the men in white masks 
beneath their skull-caps; the women wear black 
masks beneath white-faced hats — black velvet 
on topf with white pumps and trimmings. 

They execute a pantomime of wheeling steps 
before the statue of Love^ then fling themselves 
on the ground in sorrowful attitudes, 

/} man^s voice sings: 

77 



ALL the Follies fathered here 
l\ On a ni^ht in June — 
What shall Cupid do for them, 
Cupid and the Moon? 

Cupid ever 

[Lines missing] 

They dance again and again^ and finally sink 
on the ground in attitudes of expectation. 

The voice sings: 

Follies, ask not Love appear 
Himself in Godlike ^uise: 

Never thus he shews himself 
Unto Follies' eyes ! 

His worshippers unseen — 

[Lines missing] 

They slowly rise and stand listening. 

Voice: 

Li^ht up the garden, Follies dear, 
And then you shall await him here! 

The Follies dance out and return with lighted 
rose-colored lanterns which they hang on various 
little wires concealed in the hedges. 

78 



[Lines missing] 

# 

/It the back of the stage only the lights among 
the roses are left, /Ind from behind the statue of 
Love arises a figure in sparkling silver^ with 
diaphanous white wings. 

Moonshine and her partner in black velvety 
Mystery, come forth slowly and begin a dance 
in which all the Follies finally join* 

Suddenly they lay fingers on lips: a clock strikes 
five: there is the sound of a rooster crowing: all 
the lights on the stage go out^ and the Follies, 
led by Moonshine and Mystery, come down into 
the audience as the stage turns absolutely dark. 

The lights go up: the rag- time music begins^ and 
the audience begins to dance. 



79 



ONE NIGHT IN TANGIER 

A SONG CYCLE 



ONE NIGHT IN TANGIER 

(The Author evidently intended to make of these songs a semi-dramatic 
whole with scenic directions and music complete, so that it could be 
presented on the stage. 

Of these directions, however, only fragments have been found among 
the Author's papers; but it is clear that the idea which underlies the 
series is that of a pair of young European lovers, who, wishing to dis- 
cover for themselves the Soul of the East, stray about the city of Tangier 
from one mysterious shadow to another, and hear from behind blank 
walls or from hidden house-tops the songs which reveal the flaming pas- 
sion that underlies the Oriental calm. 

The. first scene was to have been laid in an Embassy Garden, as the fol- 
lowing description, found attached to the manuscript, shews: 

Night. The dark luxuriant foliage of an Embassy garden— 
(presumably English) on the heights above Tangier. Masses 
of scarlet geraniums and heliotrope. In the foreground an 
effect of moonlight — and a stone garden-seat on which lies a 
woman's satin cloak. Incidental music: "Liebestod" from 
"Tristan and Isolde" or "Elevation" from Chaminade. The 
man and woman (he wearing a full-dress regimental uniform, 
she in a ball-gown) stand together, centre. 

Then follows the sketch of a recitative in which the man asks the woman 
to come out into the native quarter with him. 

And the cycle was to close where it began, in this Embassy Garden, for 
jotted down at the end of "Aftermath," the eleventh number, we find: 

Dawn music from Grieg's "Peer Gynt" or Mascagni's "Iris." 
On the height— the garden again— showing faint streaks of 
dawn in the sky. The woman sings as she sits on the garden 
seat — the man half kneeling near her. 

The stage directions for the intervening songs were either never written 
or have been lost.) 

83 



ONE NIGHT IN TANGIER 



SERENADE IN THE SPANISH QUARTER 

'Baritone Solo 

AMID ^reen reeds the herons nest, 
L And in the garden close 
A butterfly hath found sweet rest 
Within a red, red rose. 

The moon, half hidden by the mist, 
Doth tend her flock of stars: 

The West winds wander where they list 
— Even to thy window bars. 

Thou knowest, alone of all the world, 
Where my fond heart seeks rest: 

More fair than roses dew-empearled, 
By sweeter winds caressed. 

Ah ! while the moon her vigil keeps 

Beside the wakeful stars, 
I linger where Pepita sleeps 

Beneath her window bars! 



84 



11 

ON THE HOUSE-TOP 
Zuluki to her Lord the Sherifa 

Soprano Solo 

LO! while I rest on thine arm, 
J Listen, Lord! to my song. 
I have dreamed of the strife and alarm 

Of the Desert; and, strong 
As an eagle in flight, 
I would ride there this night! 

Ah ! the kiss of the sun on my brow 

Lingers still; and my heart. 
Which was thine — which is thine even now — 

Throbbing, bids me depart. 
From the desert I came, 
And my heart holds its flame. 

Would'st thou have me stay in this place 

When my spirit hath cried 
To the stars, stars that look down on the space 

Where the desert lies wide? 
Yea! the Rose of the Dawn 
Pierces me deep with its thorn! 



85 



Ill 
RIFFIAN LOVE SONG 

baritone Solo 

THROUGH the Burbana Valley flows 
A sin^in^ moon-kissed stream; 
Far on the banks the iris throws 
Her veil with pearls a^leam. 

Oh ! Thou, who in the white-roofed town 

Dost mock while Sidi sin^s, 
Couldst see but once the stork bend down, 

Her nestling 'neath her win^s, 

How far from all this dust and mire 

Oh, pallid Rose of May, 
Would'st thou within the moon's white fire 

Burn all my doubts away. 



86 



SONG OF THE CAMEL-DRIVERS 

^ass Chorus 

OVB'J^ the burning sands we stride — 
Selim^ /Ihdallah^ Jlhmed^ all! 
Jlnd every hour we ride and ride 
ZVe hear the desert call, 

'baritone Solo 

Heart of the caravan! who knows 

But thee how deep the sweetness lies 

Of rest, that like a petalled rose 
Unfolds beneath these skies. 

^ass Solo 

We rest to-night amid this cheer: 

We feed our beasts with cakes of meal; 

Refresh yon saint who draws a-near, 
Then for his blessing kneel. 

baritone and 'Bass 'Duet 

For prayer and praise to Allah borne 
Adorn the beauty of this place, 

As gold and pearls and scarves adorn 
A maiden's slender grace. 

'Bass Chorus repeated 

Over the burning sands we stride^ etc, 
87 



V 

FROM A HOUSE-TOP 
T)uet: Tenor and Soprano 

Sherifa {looking down) : 

*'TO! hath thy voice no new sweet 
J— i note for me?" 

J^zeeci [in the courtyard^ amid the myrtles) : 

** What voice shall be attuned to 

sound so far?" 
Sherifa: **Thou knowest alone! a Rose of 

Melody!" 
/Izeed: ** From Azeed in the garden to 

a Star?" 

Flute Intermezzo 

Sherifa : ** Sweet slave, thou wearest chains ; 

why singest thou?" 
/Izeed: *' So souls in torment sing to ease 

their pain." 
Sherifa: *^And is that why I sing to thee, 

and now" — (a long pause) 
/Izeed: '* Why thou art silent! Hast thou 

sung in vain?" 



VI 

AZIZAH 

baritone Solo 

TAKE thou my scrolls and burn them one 
by one! 
They were not writ in praise of thy white brow 
I knew thee not until the April sun 

Revealed a budding rose, Azizah, thou! 

The dew we saw at yester-eve empearled, 
At dawn this day a mist of dreams became: 

So shall my son^s, thou Jasmine of the World, 
For love of thee dissolve in wreaths of flame. 



89 



Vll 

SONG OF THE KASBAH^ 

cMezzo Solo 

LO! all the dreams I called my own 
J I ^ave to thee. 

Star-son^s I san^ when, all alone, 

I wandered, free 1 
And for my dreams, what ^avest thou? 

— For son^s, all flown? 
What precious guerdon have I now? 
— A stone! 

^ KASBAH — Moorish citadel or prison. 



90 



Vlll 

BY THE SEA-WALL 
The Song of the 'Dancing Girl 

Soprano Solo 

THE white-walled town lies terraced to the sea; 
Its myriad lanterns would my step invite 
If I knew not, Oh Rose of my delight, 
That thou would^st come at dawn to comfort me! 

Though men have said, '*Lo ! there in chains of ^old 
She that was promised bride to some rude clown 
Dances to-night, nor fears the Basha's frown T' 
— Still by the sea-wall wait I as of old! 



91 



IX 

THE BLIND BEGGAR 

'Bass Recitative 

WHO art thou proudly riding by? 
Lo! in the dust men see me lie, 
And for thine ear alone my cry! 

I who am come on evil days, 

I shrink not from the red sun's gaze: 

Yet thou, each dawn, doth fear his rays. 

Thou know'st, if Allah's truth were known. 
If all men reaped the harvest sown. 
If / should lie here, blind, alone! 



92 



X 

THE THOUGHTS OF ZAHRA 

Mezzo Solo 

MY mother tells me all the ancient tales 
Of maidens carried off by bandits tall: 
She bids me stay within, lest there befall 
Some evil to our house; and yet she fails 

To make me happy, carding wool till night. 
The bird that sits upon the almond tree 

Has sung to me, **Zahra, girl, thy fingers white 
Should find more sweet employment, wert thou free." 

Far in the desert where the hot stars glow, 

With my bold chieftain would I ride and ride! 

Lo! if at Ramadan I am a bride, 
I would it were to such an one I go. 

My mother says that jackals ever call 
The listening doe into the desert far: 

But oh ! these bandit chieftains straight and tall, 
How quite unlike our town-bred men they are! 



93 



XI 

AFTERMATH 
On the heights above 'cMsallah 

Soprano Solo 

FAR, far below the clear Muezzin calls: 
So call us Love and Life 1 The dawn, how fair 
The murmur of the fountains as they fall, 

The rose unfolding, these shall be our prayer! 

One night of stars and song, of song divine 
That bids us take no heed of race or creed! 

Beloved, still your hand is clasped in mine. 

And we are dreaming of the whole world's need. 



94 



f 




GRACE CLARKE NEWTON 

at the "Castillo de la Cabana," Havana, Cuba 

March, I9I5 



OCCASIONAL STANZAS 

WRITTEN IN BOOKS, ON THE 
REVERSE OF PICTURES, ETC. 



'/-^ — . 










98 



A LINE TO LIVE BY 

(On a blank page in the Poems of Elizabeth Barrett Browning) 

KEEP thou the poet's heart! 
With thy spade in the clod 
Thou art still a part 

Of the quickening God. 



99 



AFTER THE QUARREL 

(On a page of " The Smart Set" by Clyde Fitch) 

IF 'tis your will to make a mystery 
Of women, and, above all women, of me, 
I can but smile. Sweetheart. — So let it be! 

But what a devious path you choose, when near 
The fair, broad road of Truth lies straight and clear. 
— And how I long to tread it with you, Dear 1 



100 



IN A LETTER 



(Two of several stanzas in a letter to a "Captain Courageous' 
on his leaving Bermuda) 



PRAY, may you always see this 
As it looks to-day to me — 
Like a matrix ed^ed with amber 
In the midst of a turquoise sea. 

The jewels of no sacred Buddha, 

No ima^e in a shrine, 
Could ^low with a deeper beauty 

Than this of an hour di\>ine. 



lOI 



INFLUENCE 

(In an old diary) 

ONE slender spire against the sky; 
One chime of bells, soft, low, and clear. 
But at the sight and sound draw near 
A hundred souls to God on high ! 



102 



ON A SMALL IVORY BUDDHA 

Sent to John R. Paxton, D.D., on his Birthday 

ASM I LING sa^e, whose age, maybe, 
Dates back to dynasty **Kang-He/' 
Presents this scroll to you, • 
Conveying in his polished way 
The charming things I 'd like to say, 
Yet lack the wit to do! 

I know not what your age may be. 
But 'tis a far cry from old ** Kang-He/' 

Still, every year you 've shown 
To all the way that one may give 
The greatest happiness: — To Live^ 

/Ind Love the things you ^ve known! 



103 



DO TWO WHO DREAM 

(On the fly-leaf of " Aucassin and Nicoletc") 

DO two who dream dreams 
Ever know themselves quite, 
Or quite know each other? 
For the stars of my dream 
Are eternity's ni^ht 
In the heart of my brother! 

Do we who love life 

Ever know what the Spring 

With an almond tree blooming 

Is to one for whom life 

Is a bird on swift wing, 

— And Love, fire consuming? 



104 



FOR A SUN-DIAL SCULPTURED 
BY ENID YANDELL 

SPRINGTIDE and the world aflame— hours 
like snails do creep and clin^: 
Rose-crowned June — the Heart's desire — Time 

takes flight on eagle wing: 
Autumn soothes in her embrace what remains of 

Life, Oh! Friend — 
Presage of th' enfolding shroud Winter weaves us 
for the End! 



105 



ALICE IN WONDERLAND 

(On the fly-leaf of Lewis Carroll's book) 

WHAT is a palace 
Without its Wonderland? 
If you do not know 

Your ^* Alice/' 
Why, you cannot 

Understand 
More than half we 

Say to you, 
More than half we 

Think or do! 



106 



WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY 

(On the fly-leaf of Henley's Poems) 

AND shall we jud^e him, Heart o* Mine, 
/\ While everywhere the Spring 
— That filled his son^ with scent of pine 

And roses whispering — 
On twi^ and blade and shivering vine 

Its robe of buds doth flin^? 
Nay! lift the cup: drink down the wine; 

And then thou, too, may^st sing! 



107 



I READ A LITTLE BOOK 

(On a page of "The Secret Life," as a dedication to Mary H.) 

I READ a little book to-day 
That made me think of You! 
Well spiced with wit, half ^rave, half gay, 
And wholly tender: quite your way 
Of taking Life in view. 

It brushed the cobwebs from the pane; 

It set one dreaming true. 
Ah, like a quickening April rain 
With all of Summer in its train, 

It made me think of You! 



108 



ON A PICTURE 

Of Fra Lippo Lippi, who, dressed in his monkish robe, was painting a 
beautiful young Sister of Mercy as a Madonna, and suddenly fell at 
her feet and poured out his love for her. 



^*/^^H, Love enshrined, Mother of winged Love, 
V^y Over me still his rosy pinions trailing! 
How shall one's thoughts be of the Heavenly Dove 
When all my prayers to Heaven prove unavailing, 
And thou dost still behold me with mad eyes 
Although thou sit'st wrapped round in Mercy's 
guise?" 

(Thus Lippo Lippi to a cloistered rose, 

Venus in Madonna's semblance, breathing 
sweetness:) 
**Thou in my heart to rob it of repose, 

Thou in my art to rob it of completeness — 
What must I take from thee? Thy peace? 

Now mine 
Hath fled — thou too shalt know unrest divine!" 



109 



IN CHILDHOOD'S DAY 
TO R. N., Jr. 

(On a comical drawing of fat babies, called "Kiss 
the One You Love Best") 

AH ! if one only could obey 
L The heart's true prompting now, as then, 
In childhood's sweet, untroubled day! 
— Kiss when we list, and kiss again. 

But somehow Fate, the green old Dame, 
Has made it wrong to love you, Dear! 

I may not look lest some should blame 
— How much less kiss, or hold you near! 



110 



TO MAURICE HEWLETT 

(On a blank page in Hewlett's "Open Country") 

YOU, who help US understand 
To what bourne our thoughts may go 
You, our friend 1 Across the sand 

Cleanly fresh the sea winds blow. 
You, the brother to this wind, 
Make us brothers of your mind! 



Ill 



EACH DAY IS A SONG 

(On the fly-leaf of "Venetian Life" by W. D. Howells) 

I AEAR, the beauty of blossoms is borne 
I ^ To my heart in a son^ far more sweet 
Even than son^s that I sang in that dawn 

Of Life-longing which Love shall complete- 
Complete in the fullness of life, 

In the power to be silent and strong. 
— Ah ! the beauty of springtide is rife 

In my heart, and each day is a song. 



112 



BY THE SEA-SHORE 

(On a blank page in Thoreau's "Waldcn") 

SO blue the sky above; so blue 
The sea that ripples at our feet; 
But in thine eyes, steadfast and true, 
Still fairer blue I find, my Sweet! 

Oh ! calm and bright are August skies, 
And deep and peaceful is the sea: 

And all these dwell within those eyes 
Which turn in love to me 1 



113 



L^ ENVOI 

(At the end of a diary, after a trip from Washington 
to Colorado) 



TO dream a^ain of happy hours, 
What pleasure near akin to pain I 
Forgotten all the passing showers — 
To dream a^ain of happy hours. 
One thinks but of the Autumn flowers 

That strewed our pathway after rain. 
To dream a^ain of happy hours — 
What pleasure near akin to pain! 



114 



IN LIGHTER VEIN 



THE GLOW-WORM AND THE 
BUTTEI^FLY 

AG LOW- WORM loved a pansy shy 
Whose charm had been discovered by 
A ^ay flirtatious butterfly. 
— I wonder why! 
In the quiet garden close, 
Where a glow-worm brightest glows, 
Pretty little pansy chose 
The butterfly? 

Refrain: 

The pansy was so shy. 
The glow-worm was so bright 
That when he flashed upon her sight 

The timid thing began to cry! 
He was the better fellow — quite — 

But still she chose the butterfly! 

'Tis better far that lips should meet, 
That lovers tell their secrets sweet 
Where darkness shrouds their snug retreat. 

Perhaps the glow-worm might 
Secure this timid pansy's heart 
By floating down, with quiet art, 
Sans lamp — when butterflies depart 

At fall of night! 

Refrain: The pansy was so shy, etc. 
117 



LINES WRITTEN IN A PARLOR CAR 

I HAD a vision of a Pullman car — 
Yea, of a parlor-car at Summer noon, 
Where, clad in spotless linen, stood ye coon, 
Serving iced water from a crystal jar 

To one recumbent in a wide-armed chair, 
Bamboo or wicker, on a cool bare floor 
Still showing signs of where an hour before 

It had been sprinkled against the noon-day fare. 

The walls (between wide windows), panelled green, 
Had felt the grateful shower, and on them hung 
Baskets of hardy ferns which softly swung 

As the train glided through the changing scene. 

Just then I woke, and all was tawdry-gay 
And cheap of aspect, as a parlor-car 
Has ever been, and will be, near and far 

In this luxurious land of ours, they say. 

The dust lay thick and thicker everywhere; 
My chair resembled such as dentists own: 
Its velvet horror scorched me to the bone, 

Though to possess it I M paid double fare. 

118 



And yet it 's highly probable that we 

— Yes, I the kicker, you who ^rin and bear 
This beastly state of things — won't turn a hair 

To change these torments in the least decree. 



1 19 



MY PAL 

(To an old photograph of a baby) 

THE bald-head baby wunct I wuz, 
I hev a softy spot fer him, 
Although the picter thet wuz took 

Thet lon^ ago is fadin' dim 
An' where his head wuz bald — why, now 
The snow is growin' kinder slim 1 

Fer when I look in his moon face, 
Inter them round, confidin' eyes. 

It kinder makes me glad ter think 
Thet I wuz wunct thet happy size; 

An' then, in spite o' bandy laigs. 

My Mammy thought I wuz a ** prize"! 

I never did amount ter much — 

I 've bed my knocks, an' some wuz hard- 
But when I 'm feelin' ruther down 

I take out thet old picter-card. 
An' thet durn baby seems ter wink 

An' say, ** I stand fer ye, old pardl" 



120 



A SCHEVENINGEN IDYL 

NEATH the awning white and crimson of 
her balcony, Annette, 
A pensive, black-robed vision, smoking a 

cigarette, 
Looked out o'er the flower-boxes, and smiled 
as our glances met. 

I 'd come to the quaint Dutch village, in the 

train of an English Miss, 
Whom my people thought perfection, and my 

future wedded bliss; 
And I too nearly thought so, till I caught a 

glimpse of this! 

I passed to the Kursaal dreaming, waltzed with 

fair Miss Brown: 
What a stupid place I found it; how I wished 

she had stayed in town ! 
And my heart went wandering backward to the 

girl in the sombre gown. 
121 



Yes, and that self-same evening — oh, readers 

wise and good! — 
My heart obeyed love's prompting, and beside 

Annette I stood 
(Since Romeo started climbing, I hold all 

lovers should!). 

She murmured, ^*We 're dreaming, surely; but 

we will not wake just yet." 
Then she handed me demurely a Russian 

cigarette. 
And I held her hand securely, till she told her 

name — Annette. 

The rest was soon forthcoming: she 'd been 

married (quite a child) 
To a Count with the loveliest whiskers, who 

her girlish heart beguiled, 
And who now in the nearest churchyard lay 

quietly domiciled. 

We did not disinter him by a single wish that 

night; 
We loved each other madly, at what poets call 

** first sight," 
And we planned a life of roses beneath the 

moon's pale light! 
122 



This story has no moral (the real ones 

seldom do!)f 
I ^ot an introduction from someone we both 

knew, 
And I married her the instant that her year of 

** ^rief " was through. 

So here 's to Scheveningen! It's a hard, hard 

word to say, 
But I 'd repeat it over a hundred times a day 
As a password for all lovers who chance to 

pass that way! 



123 



MISS POKY IS ON HER 
ALLOWANCE 

OH ! when I was a careless kid 
And did n^t tie my shoes — 
Why, then I did enjoy myself 
— But now I have the blues. 

I used to flin^ my dresses up 
Just ''somehow" on a rack; 

My hats fell often from the shelf 
— But now I put them back. 

But oh ! what ^ood times once I had, 

Before I got so neat! 
Then everybody scolded me, 

Yet oh ! the cause was sweet. 

I simply did n't think of clothes, 
Or what they cost to buy; 

But, now I pay for them myself. 
With care I 'm like to die. 

Oh ! children, when I see you roll 

Your gloves up in a ball. 
And not blow out each finger, neat, 

— I wish / could, that 's all 1 



124 



MY SAMPLER 

(Written on the back of a sampler purchased at the Drake sale) 

A SAMPLER is a piece of crash 
. Worked with an aphorism dreary 
By some bepantaletted tot, 

Who of the whole affair ^rew weary. 

Can you not see the maiden aunt 

Coming to visit at Pawtucket, 
And setting her small niece this ''stunt'' 

Because she was too youn^ to chuck it? 

Why is it when we pine in youth 
For love and luxury and beauty, 

We are content in middle a^e 

To show the young the '* Path of Duty"? 



125 



ISABEL 

THE SIMPLE STUDENT MAID 

ON an evening warm and balmy, in the 
month of smiling June; 
When home folks all are out of town, and 

everything 's in tune; 
You may take a spin to Claremont, in a 

hansom — quite alone! 
As / did on the evening that she marked me 

for her own. 
Isabel stood on the terrace, looking — oh! so 

fair and sweet; 
And she murmured, '* I am sure this is the 

place we were to meet!" 
Now I had not planned a meeting, so I 

naturally turned 
To ask her whom she waited for, and this is 

what I learned: 
** I 'm at school here, up the river, and my 

Uncle Willie dear 
Invited me to dine with him, and now he 

is not here! '' 

Refrain: 

I sabel ! I sabel ! I sabel ! 

She is fearfully timid and shy; 
You find it very hard to tell 

126 



Whether still she 's ^t school, though you try 
But it seems to the average fellow 

Her standard of learning is high, 
For I fell 'neath your spell, Isabel! Oh! 

And awoke when you bade me **Good-bye'M 

It was such a pleasant dinner: she 'd a 

pretty taste in wine! 
Showed a knowledge quite remarkable of 

products of the vine: 
And when I marvelled gently that a 

school-girl knew so much. 
She said she ^'studied vintages, in pints, 

to keep in touch"! 
And while the ruddy ducks were disappearing 

from her plate. 
She told me of her student life — the horrid 

things they ate. 
How kindly Uncle Willie, when he came 

to see her there. 
Was shocked to hear the story of that very 

meagre fare! 
How he 'd asked they meet at dinner **at 

the nearest Wayside Inn'' — 
And the school was on the Hudson, so at 

Claremont she ** dropped in." 

Refrain: Isabel! Isabel! Isabel! etc. 

127 



THE ROSEBUD WITH A PAST 

SAID one small rosebud, blushing red, 
The parent stem unto, 
** I have no Past!" — she hun^ her head- 
^^Mama, I feel so new!^^ 

The rose mama replied, *' I fear 

This feeling will not last; 
And youth, which causes it, my dear, 

Is all too quickly past/' 

But still the little bud, they say. 

Quite rushed upon her fate: 
So keen was she to find the way 

That ** Pasts" accumulate. 

She started up her first affair 
Beneath the crescent moon — 

A nightingale who clave the air 
With songs of Love-in-June. 

Bright butterflies, by twos and threes. 

For her braved every thorn. 
She gave one petal to a Breeze 

Who kissed her at the dawn: 
128 



And then, as Summej^ fairer ^rew, 
Her heart unclosed to One — 

A Star, who shone up in the blue, 

And thought the whole thing '*fun." 

He beamed upon her, now full-blown. 
And must have found her sweet 

— But one short hour and she was strewn 
Like those beneath our feet. 

Experience is dearly bought ; 

What had she in return? 
The little Rose the Star had taught, 

Who gave her life to learn ! 

I know that you '11 agree with me, 
Though in all else I 'm wrong: 

'Tis a foolish little girl who 'd be 
Like the Rosebud of my song. 



129 



THE SONG OF THE HUNTER 

(An answer to some verses by Amos Pinchot entitled 
"The Song of the Farmer") 



OH ! why should anyone desire 
To wear a coat of black 
(Or any kind of mufti) and 

To ride a gentle hack? 
Yes, even to motor to a meet 

Is not the way to ride! 
When hounds are cast upon the ^reen 

It is a ^^^ood-un's*' pride 
To push his gallant bay or ^rey 

Well up into the race, 
And take four feet of timber sound 

At steeplechasin^ pace. 

The farmers are a noble set 

In England's hunting shires. ~ 
Their joy in hunting equals quite 

**His Lordship's" or *^The Squire's.'' 
But here the cry of **Get a gun! 

The Red Coats are in sight!" 
Began in Good King George's day, 

When each man proved his right 
To guard with arms his well tilled fields; 

And still, alas, 'tis true 
That slogan brings the farmer out 

To lay for. me and you! 

[The rest is missing] 



COMPARISONS 

IT makes the spirits bright, they say, 
To know what deaths the martyrs bore 
When one endures in books to-day 

A martyrdom of ennui sore : 
And when one's cook has done her worst , 

And Quests appear — no heart need fail, 
Remembering men have died of thirst, 
While here are ** cakes and ale"! 

A^ain, when you are pledged as due V 

To pay the mournful last respects 
To someone that you scarcely knew, 

This much your sombre gloom affects: 
— If as you hear the funeral chime 

Toll overhead, an awesome thing. 
You '11 think how you 'd regret a time 

You could n't hear it ring! 



131 



PAULINE 

SAID her very dearest friend: 
*'When they criticize Pauline, 
Then of course I shall defend: 
But that motor-veil of green 
That she wears around her hat 

Makes her look — well, almost gay! 
I don't like it, and that 's flat — 
I shall tell her so to-day/' 
(And she did!) 

Thought the lover of her youth : 

**When I met Pauline to-night, 
How I longed to speak the truth 

And to tell her she was quite 
Too adorable and young 

For her unprotected life. 
From the world's censorious tongue 

I could save her, as my wife." 
(So he thought.) 

Croaked her rigid spinster aunt: 
^* Now I think it 's out of place 

That Pauline should boldly flaunt 
Her good spirits in my face! 
132 



If her husband was a brute, 

He has not been dead one year; 

And tho' more I 'd not impute, 
She 's flirtatious — that is clear!'' 
(And she was I) 

Dear Pauline, with shining eyes 

She sat ^azin^ at her star 
And the ^lory of the skies, 

As the Thin^s-That-Really-Are 
In their depths shone dew-empearled. 

Low she laughed, **Tho' I can see 
That I shall not please the world. 

Love and Life shall laugh with me!" 
(And they did!) 



133 



ANY HUSBAND TO ANY WIFE 

AS lonely kittens hide below 
x\ A bureau or a bed, 
My thoughts, that erstwhile used to flow- 
So freely, now ^o to and fro 
With saddened, timorous tread. 

It is not that I love you less. 

Or that I wish to roam; 
But all the instincts I repress 
Turn city-ward, and you confess 

You love our country home. 

Now I Ml confess: the bull-frog's croak 

Gives me a pan^ of woe. 
And I could scarcely see the joke 
When yesterday at dawn I woke 

And heard a rooster crow. 

Asphaltum on the city street 

Protects my morning ^^Pi 
The thickness of the walls complete 
An isolation far more sweet 

Than su^ar in the sap. 

134 



Here, list the childr^^s morning bath 

Progressing in the tub! 
Small wonder that *'The Man of Wrath" 
Is all the name the club-man hath 

Who wandereth from his club. 

I murmur not when you Ve inclined 

To sigh at Summer's wane; 
I face my Fall with quiet mind, 
And, going forth from Eden, find 

A solace on the train. 

This is the difference in us two. 
That 's bred in bone and brain, 

(Yes, serious ^* differences'' to you!) 

Of which I take a rosy view 
And rend no house in twain. 



135 



THE GUEST-BOOK 

HE took an early train — 
'Twas early when they missed him; 
He went off in the rain 

Before the baby kissed him! 
The Guest-Book must explain 

What wrecked his nervous system ! 

What he had written there : 

''Although I am a ^uest, 

There 's one thin^ quite upsets me; 
And now the time seems best 

To mention just what frets me. 
It ou^ht to be confessed 

Before the mad-house ^ets me. 

**It is the prospect drear 

That custom has decreed us; 
Of writing something here 

Before the host will speed us. 
(Tell him one's head feels queer, 

And he will never heed us!) 

'* He '11 murmur, *When you si^n, 

Just write a quatrain clever!' 
Of course you know the Mine' 
136 



Of verse that states * forever 
This home will seem like mine/ 

(That means three hours' endeavor!) 

^*So many more there be 

Of scribbling fools before you, 

You turn the leaves and see 

A host of rhymes that bore you. 

Alas! find two or three 

That are so ^ood they floor you. 

**So here I rack my brain, 

While Summer's li^ht is dawning, 

To beat this Guest-Book bane 
And ^et out quick this morning. 

May these few rhymes insane 
Serve as an awful warning!" 



137 



THE ONION-VENDER 

Jl Coster Song 



OH ! Lize, don't you know the cove 
behind the barrer? 
'Ow my manly 'eart 's a-swellin' as I 
shove it! 
The time is past when thoughts of honest 
work can 'arrer 
Up my feelinks. For your sake, dear, 
I 'm above it; 

For you, and you alone. 
At almost anythink that 's straight I 'd wear 
my fingers to the bone! 

You said your 'eart 'ad bled 
To 'ear me called, as once I was, on every 

'and, '^ARollin' Stone." 
So that 's why I first started in to roll 

a barrer, 
Crying, ** Onions! Buy my onions!" to 



surprise yer! 



'Tis no onion brings the dewdrops to my eyes, 
'Tis the thoughts as 'ow I 'm pleasin' Liza! 

138 



y 

Oh ! Lize, well I know that I 'ave caused 
yer sorrer, 
That yer pretty eyes 'ave often filled 
to 'spy me 
Reel past to the pub, to drink up what 
I 'd borrer* 
I 'ates to think 'ow 'appiness went by me! 
Until you murmured low, 
**Ohl chuck it, Bill!" and 'urried by me with 
your blushing face a^low, 
I say, this was the way 
You knocked me sober; and I loved yer, 

as I loves yer, dear, to-day. 
And that 's why I first be^an to roll my barrer, 
Crying, ^^ Onions! Buy my onions!'' to 

surprise yer! 
'Tis no onion brings the dewdrops to my eyes, 
'Tis the thoughts of 'ow I 'm pleasin' Liza! 

Ill 

Oh ! Lize, when I sells my onions in yer alley. 
Where you sit a-makin' of yer weddin' 
bonnet, 
Yer calls out, *''Ow goes it. Bill?" so sweet 
and ** pally"! 
I kiss yer as yer sews the roses on it. 
You says: *'Give over now!" 

139 



But I know yer does n't mean it, so I places 

on yer brow 

A few more kisses to 
Jist remind yer what on Sunday you 'ave 

promised for to do! 
And that 's why I first be^an to roll my barrer, 
Crying, ** Onions! Buy my onions!*' to 

surprise yer! 
'Tis no onion brings the dewdrops to my eyes, 
'Tis the thought as 'ow 1 *ve won yer, Liza! 



140 



REPiySALS 

YOU watch the love-light in her eyes, 
The happiness, the glad surprise; 
And if it glow 
Until the tiny spark to flame 
Has burst, more interesting the game 
Is wont to grow. 

You sit beside her at a dance, 

Seeing her tremble 'neath your glance. 

And whisper low, 
The while your hand steals near her own. 
Conveying o'er love's telephone: 

'* I love you so! *' 

She says she ^* understands'' — it 's more 
Than you can say when she 's a bore 

A week from then! 
You know that flirting is a sin. 
But it is one you revel in. 

—You '11 flirt again ! 

Until some day some little girl 

Will set your head and heart a-whirl. 

And you '11 incur 
The worry, doubt and black despair! 
The debts you owe those damsels fair 

You '11 pay to her! 

141 



MABEL SNOW 

HAVE any of you met Miss Mabel Snow? 
Not a bit of a coquette, and yet not slow! 

(Oh, no!) 
In a restaurant I waited 
For a friend who was belated 
And at a table near me sat Miss Snow! 
** Oh ! Please, sir, have you seen my brother Joe? 
I 'm sure this is the place he said to go. 
I 've been waiting here for hours/* 
Here her eyes, like purple flowers 
Filled with dew, began to gently overflow. 

How you prattled during supper, Mabel Snow, 
Of the little farm at Orange, Essex Co. ! 

How it seemed an awful pity 

You had never seen the city. 
And to-day, your eighteenth birthday, you and Joe 
(Brother as devoted as a beau!) 
Had started for the town to have a ^^blow'M 

How he left you at the ferry. 

And you made a compact merry 
To meet at ^* Jack's*' for supper and **the show"! 

Little Mabel Snow, 
A long account you owe. 
142 



There were suppers after this one that be^an my 
tale of woe. 
Yet I must confess (it's true, too!) 
When I saw you first I knew you 
For the little blonde in spangles, of the Casino 
second row! 



143 



WHO ARE YOU? 

OR, HOW TO TELL THE REAL ONES 

FROM THE REST 

A HANDBOOK IN RHYME FOR 
THE HUMAN-NATURE CLASS 



# 
FOREWORD 

THERE never was smoke without flame, 
And the do^ whom we give a bad name 
Knows, probably, why we bestow it. 
I confess that I like to be known. 
Through the strong predilections here shown 
Toward the Brutes, as an Animal Poet! 

Though Landseer, I trust you will note. 
Was the ** Animal Painter'' (I quote 

From the popular phrase of the hour!). 
And Barye is famed to this day 
As the Genius who fashioned in clay 

The Beasts in their beauty and power, 

cMy ** mission'' is helping, you see! 
If you ever ''came down a tree" 

Or ''out of a hole," like some others: 
If you can get up from "all fours," 
If you have a "tough hide" or "long claws," 

And if the "queer fish" are your brothers! 



147 



THE COTILLION LEADER 

OUR Jungle Folk are very bored; 
The Lion is tired of '* lionizing/' 
And so he makes the Jungle's lord 

A Monkey! What is most surprising, 
This choice is pleasing to the rest; 
They all enjoy the merry jest! 

The Monkey gets up '* shows" and ** balls/' 
Designs gauze dresses for the ladies; 

And all must caper when he calls, 

Although they find it hot as — Newport! 

Yes! Watch him swing from limb to limb, 

And all the Jungle follow him! 

The Elephant is nearly dead; 

The Hippo has some weight to carry; 
But still they gasp, '' How well it 's led! " 

And **Is there anyone like Larry?" 
He makes a Monkey of each one; 
And yet the creatures think it 's fun ! 



148 



PARSON OWL'S TEST QUESTIONS 

THE woodland Gretna Green is here: 
An Owl is Parson — and 'tis said 
Eloping birds from far and near 

Apply to him when they would wed. 
He says: **Have You the Wit to Woo? 
Then come to me, I '11 see you through!" 

The Lark, the Pheasant, and the Wren; 

He says the words, the fee is small; 
The Puddle Duck, the Barnyard Hen, 

— He ** splices" anyone at all 
Except the rascally Cuckoo ! 
**To Wit, Have You the Right to Wool" 



149 



THE GRATEFUL ELEPHANT 

A PHILANTHROPIC Chimpanzee 
(A spinster living quite alone 
In a salubrious cocoa-tree) 

Longed for a playmate of her own; 
And so she '^advertised'' the fact 
That she had ''cocoa-nuts to feed 

Deserving Parties!" This was tact, 
The forest hoboes all agreed* 

An Elephant outstripped them all, 

For hope and hunger made him fleet. 
She came down to "receive'' his "call," 

And gave him cocoa-nuts to eat. 
She so appealed to his good taste 

That, closing both his eyes, he wound 
His trunk about the lady's waist 

To show his gratitude profound! 

She murmured, " Do you want some more?"- 

Meaning the cocoa-nuts, of course — 
But he, who thought her sentence bore 

A sweet construction, hugged with force! 
He did not dare to fix his mind 

Upon her face and figure spare; 
So hugged away and "went it blind," 

And knew not that she gasped for air! 
150 



Poor Grateful Eleplyint! alas! 

Poor Philanthropic Chimpanzee! 
She lay at rest upon the ^rass ; 

He mourned her loss beneath the tree 
And though it grieved him to adjust 

His quondam hostess's estate, 
He formed the thing into a ** Trust," 

And everything in sight he ate! 



151 



THE AQUARIUM 

OLOOK, Papa!" says Hopeful Boy; 
**The little porpoise is so cute! 
Just see her gambol, full of joy — 

But who is that great ugly brute 
That steers her course so close beside her?*' 
'' That 's her Mama : 'tis well you spied her." 

'* O hear the duckling in the pond! 

How soothing is her low * Quack! Quack!' 
But, Gad! her relatives are fond 

Of making quite an awful clack!" 
**And so will she, my son, when older." 
The hopeful feels his love grow colder. 

'*That little lobster over there — 

How daintily she waves her claws!" 

'*Of such, my boy, I pray beware. 

Lest you be gripped between her jaws; 

A young one — blithely do we choose her, 

But in old age it 's hard to lose her!" 



152 



THE HYPNOTIC TURKEY 

AND HOW HE HAD THE BARNYARD BELLES 
BLUFFED TO DEATH 

COME hither, O my pretty Chicks!'' 
The Turkey cries — and up they hobble 
Even a^ed Hens ^et in the mix 

To listen to his ** Gobble! Gobble!" 
They think it is a **bid" to dine, 

But all the while he knew he gave it 
When he had stuffed enough — in fine, 
Of what remained, small good to save it! 



There always are a lot of ^^ peaches 
Who like the after-dinner speeches. 



tf 



153 



THE HOUNDED PORCUPINE 

THE Porcupine be^an life ^aily 
By editing the '^Jungle Daily." 
The busy bees were his reporters, 
The Katydids his staunch supporters. 
Soon bigger brutes commenced to fear him, 
So they put up a game 'Ho queer him*'! 
They sent a band of monkeys to him. 
Ostensibly to ^Mnterview'' him. 
Of course he gave the saucy creatures 
A shower of Quills; his finest Features 
He cast away into their faces. 
They plucked them forth, with wry 

grimaces. 
And dipping in the Mud around them, 
They wrote *^ GREAT MEN AS WE HAVE 

Found Them." 

Carlyle, Mark Twain, and Horace Greeley 
Were in his Class — they ** carved" them 

freely — 
But he received their largest Lemon. 
The Porcupine they bathed in Venom: 
They said, ** His Reason must be 

rocking" — 
^*His Rudeness to his Wife is shocking" — 

154 



They criticized his Style of Dressing; 
They said, **His death would be a blessing." 
This final touch was past all bearing — 
The Porcupine became despairing: 
Of ^^ Writer's Cramp" or ^* Quill Congestion" 
He died — a case of ** Thought Suggestion" ! 



155 



THE GIDDY GOAT 

ODO you know the Giddy Goat? 
At week-end parties you will find him; 
He steers your motor-car or boat, 

And leaves all others far behind him. 
What tho' he lands you on the rocks? 
'* You can't have speed without some shocks !" 

The Goat gets up ** Gymkhana'* games, 

And everybody *s in the races. 
He says, *' I only want your names,'' 

But you should see their anxious faces! 
The Hippo and the coy Baboon 
** Tie " for a ** place " in Egg and Spoon ! 

His ''Tableaux Vivants " are the rage: 

The young Giraffe, as ** Trilby," knocking. 

The Parrot, looking half her age, 

Is ** Fair Susanna" (rather shocking; 

But so are half the things we note!) — 

*^ Pray, don't be prudish! " says the Goat! 

On rainy Sundays he will say, 

^' Let 's read aloud 'twixt tea and dinner." 
So matrons grave and damsels gay 

All gather round to hear ^'The Sinner" — 
^^ A moral tale, but not a tract," 
The Goat explains. ** It deals with fact!" 

156 



THOUGHTFUL TUTTI FRUTTI 

t 

OR, THE BRIGHT KITTEN WHO KNEW THE 
VALUE OF PRINKING 

A ONE-EYED cat 
Stood on the mat 
Outside a city basement — 

A ^* Persian" rare 

With red-gold hair 
Reclined within the casement. 

''O tell me why/* 

Said poor One-Eye, 
''The difference in our stations? 

You Ve but a Cat, 

Yet sleek and fat 
From Lion's share of rations!" 

Said Auburn Hair, 

'' I know I 'm fair: 
They call me Tutti Frutti! 

I keep my hold 

On humans cold 
By caring for my beauty. 

I undulate 

My gold-red pate; 
I manicure my nails. Dear; 

And that is why 

At ease I lie. 
And you 're outside the rails, Dear!" 

137 



THE LIFE OF THE PARTY 

THE ^ay Hyena ^oes to dine 
So merrily, his fame is ^rowin^: 
His lau^h *s **The Thing/' No vintage wine 

Is needed, you can ** start him going'' 
On aged jokes and ginger ale: 
His sense of humor will not fail! 

If Lions are your honored guests. 

Parrots and Monkeys come to meet them. 
The latter make some feeble jests ; 

The birds quite feverishly repeat them; 
But all are much depressed and awed 
By those Great Creatures at your board! 

When enter — greeted by a roar 

Of welcome — our inveterate joker! 

He cries, '^ These * functions' are a bore! 
I gave up such a jolly Smoker 

— The Friendly Sons of Fat Giraffes! — 

To come to you!" Then how he laughs! 

Now, even Lions like to feel 

As if, at parties given for them. 
All merriment did not congeal! 

If you 're a guest, and would not bore them, 
Pretend you are not scared one bit, 

And you will make /I Perfect Hit! 

158 



THE WALKING DELEGATE 



A CHIPMUNK bold 
(So I 've been told) 
Was storing nuts away, 

When ** Peter Rab" 

Said, ^* You Ve a * scab ' 
To work nine hours a day! 

It 's lots more fun 

To cut and run. 
The farmer makes his hay, 

But who would be 

A ^farmer'? We 
Find farming does not pay!'' 

The Chipmunk stopped; 

His store he dropped; 
He wept and wrung his paws — 

His back was turned 

The while he yearned 
And dreamed about **The Cause/' 

But Mister Rab 

Just called a cab 
(He simply hated rain!) — 

The nuts he took, 

Lest it might look 
The laborer worked in vain ! 

159 



THE FLIPPANT FOX AND THE 

SANCTIMONIOUS COON 

A FLIPPANT Fox with pointed nose, 
Red whiskers and a jaunty air, 
Goes Vound the town as one who knows 

A trick or two, and ^ets the stare 
Of cold disdain from mothers fond. 

Who scuttle with their tender brood 
Or chase their Goslings to the pond. 

The Fox observes this conduct rude; 
And, stun^ and smarting, 'neath the moon 
He meets a sanctimonious Coon! 

** I ask you,^' says the Fox, **do you 

Cause much alarm on field and fen? 
Yet I should say that of us two 

You *ve done more harm to Dove and Hen ! *' 
The Coon replies, ** Observe my smile, 

My quiet suit, my walk sedate. 
You look the * Sport'; my lack of style 

Gets me the Game; you ^et the Gate!'' 
So when you meet a Fox in ^rey 
Just guard your roost at close of day! 



160 



THE LARGE FROG TELLS HOW 
HE ACHIEVED NOTORIETY 

THE Pond is full of little Fish, 
The Sea can boast its Whales; 
But here are Minnows in a Dish. 
I sit beside them 
And deride them 
— A plan that never fails! 
They nearly wiggle off their tails 
To hear me say, ** Pish ! Pish ! " 



161 



THE PUPPIES' SCHOOL 

THE blind Boy Puppies ^o to school^ 
Fat, optimistic little fellows! 
How sad it seems, by Fate's misrule, 

That one who ^* brays" or one who ^'bellows" 
Shall be the first to blur their brains 
To what this world of ours contains! 

''The Daisies, how they crowd the ^rass!" 
''Lads,'* says the Bull, "all such suspect!" 

Ah me, the dull, portentous Ass! 
They listen to him with respect 

When with a glance that fairly bristles 

He says, " The thin^ we need is — Thistles! " 

Small wonder, when their eyes unclose. 

This vegetable talk supplies 
No guidance for the joys and woes 

In which they plunge with haste unwise. 
The Puppies' Perfect Peda^o^ue 
Would be a wise old Shepherd Dog! 



162 



THE HIGH-FLYING SPIDER 

THIS is the story of a Spider, 
Devoted slave to daughters twain. 
For seasons long tbey sat beside her, 

And tho' she racked her fertile brain 
And spun a web of fairy lace 
On window panes. 
No ardent swains 
Were noticed hanging 'round the place. 

Said she, **We must be up-to-date 

When Matrimony is the Game! '' 
And so she chose the garden gate 

(Which still enjoys a splendid name 
For '^making matches'' — ** catching flies") 
But each gay Fly 
Went flying by 
In fly ** Machines" of wondrous size! 

You all have heard the proverb terse 

About the ''Mote" in someone's eye! 
But this old Spider had what 's worse— 

A Motor-Car or two; and why 
She should not rope their owners in 
She failed to seel 
We must agree 
She who flies high is apt to win ! 

163 



^* I 've seen/' observed the Spider, ''where 

The honey in the Swarm is found! 
Hard by the village Garage! There 

The air is filled with humming sound. 
Not only Moths and Butterflies 
But Motor Bugs 
And sparking plugs! 
We '11 hasten there to 'Hypnotize!'" 

Smart caps and goggles made our misses 

Appear so ravish ingly sweet 
That Flies in fast "machines" threw kisses, 

And soon they had them at their feet. 
'Twas but the twinkling of an eye, 
The game was theirs! 
And now, in pairs, 
Their Mother sees them motor by! 



164 



THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE 
PASTURE 

I NEVER saw a cow or sheep 
That could be called ** neurotic/' 
That lost its appetite or sleep, 
Or when it laughed, began to weep, 
That needed a ''narcotic/' 

And witness, on the other hand, 

The galleries of Florence, 
The columns of old Rome: they stand, 
By some great human creatures planned 

Who held ''nerves" in abhorrence. 

When they felt "jumpy" in those days, 

They wrestled, bathed or boated; 
They wrote an ode in woman's praise. 
They builded temples to amaze 
The Gods on whom they doted. 

They went not languidly to pray, 

Nor solemnly to dinner: 
They fought for laurel or for bay, 
They trod erect the golden way, 

They lived: — sage, saint and sinner! 



165 



/I note found written on the hack of a map of 
the run of the Suffolk Hounds. 



THICKET GATE 

September 29, 1 906. 

After this run, which was one of the most beau- 
tiful I ever saw (Dick riding "Tornado"), I 
came back here, lit the lamps, got tea ready, 
and then when Dick rode in he saw the light 
shining from our own little house ; he blew a 
"salute" on his hunting-horn and, in his pink 
coat, came home to tea. It is a memory long 

— no, ever — to be cherished. 

G. C. N. 



/Jnd here ends this first volume of 
Poems in Passing by Grace Clarke 
Newton, of which 152 copies only have 
been printed by The ^eVinne 'Press, 
New York, on hand-made paper, and the 
type distributed, in this year of our Lord 
one thousand nine hundred and sixteen. 



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